Her Boys
by chartreuseian
Summary: Her father had called them 'her boys' and as time went by, things didn't really change. COMPLETE
1. Nigel

**This is the expansion of a line I wrote in another fic. Basically we're looking at a whole heap of almost stand alone chapters of varying lengths, looking at the men in Helen's life. (And, at the very end, there will be one about 'her girl' too)**

**The entire premise for this series is that Gregory Magnus once referred to John, James, Nigel and Nikola as 'her boys.'**

**So, even though I swore I wouldn't publish anything until I'd finished all my assessment for the week, here I am, and it's only Monday... Ah well, I'm sure it'll be worth it! Who needs to pass?**

**Enjoy**

**xx**

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><p><strong><em>Nigel:<em>**

Nigel was the sweet one. Dirty and inappropriate with the ability to make her blush but sweet none the less. He was warm and friendly. He never judged her, even when she insisted they help John. He hadn't looked at her like she was crazy or pitied her. He'd just nodded at her, eyes silently asking her if she was sure. They'd slept together a few times after that, when they were both drunk and she was lonely. He'd never turned her away. He knew she went to him out of need. She couldn't go to James or Nikola for mindless pleasure, they both wanted more of her than she could give. So they started a very brief, very sloppy affair that ended with him kissing her on the back of the hand in a manner so uncommon that she was rendered speechless for a good few minutes.

She'd come to him that morning to apologize. Apologize for coming to his bed in the middle of the night and for using him to make her feel better. Not that it had worked. He had been so kind about it she was almost tempted to kiss him again. He shushed her, telling her he knew what she was getting at and that she needn't feel so embarrassed about it all.

Of course, that only served to make her more embarrassed but the fact that he'd tried was what was important. Over the years they fell out of touch, Nigel choosing the life he'd led long before joining the Five while Helen tried to act in more altruistic ways. They were fundamentally different but there were times when she missed him more than the rest. Well, maybe just in a different way. Her heart ached for the simple pleasures his friendship brought her. She missed his chuckle. She missed his gentle sparring with all the others. She missed the way he'd joke with her in a way none of the others were comfortable with.

Nigel was the sweet one, proud as punch to be considered one of 'her boys.'


	2. John

**This, ah, might not be to some people's liking. I don't really like John very much (who am I kidding? I hate him) and I like him and Helen together even less so this might be a little dark and twisty and not at all some people's cup of tea. Fair warning, yeah?**

**That said, I in no way deny that they were in love and have a crazy history that will always be part of who Helen is... **

**To all my lovely reviewers, I would say "Here, have a Nikola shaped cookie!" but considering I just made a batch of Nikola moustache cookies, I'll offer you one of those instead... For clarification, see my super cool avatar :P**

**Enjoy**

**PS: Who's excited for tomorrow's Sanctuary Twitter Tag? I AM! :D**

**xx**

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><p><strong><em>John:<em>**

He was her first love. He was everything she needed in a man. Strong, controlled, intelligent, loving, attentive. Murderous. He loved her. She knew he did and she loved him for loving her. He was the perfect lover. He wasn't as stuffy as James or as inappropriate as Nigel, he was perfect.

He had loved her.

She'd wondered for a time if she'd ever loved him. Actually loved him not what he stood for. And she did, she knew she did and as much as she wished she hadn't she was immensely glad she had. He had given her something beyond her wildest dreams.

She had loved him.

He still loved her, she knew he did, she didn't need him to say it. There was a part of her that would always belong to him, a part of her that would love her until she died. She'd spent nearly 30 years waiting for love. Waiting for someone to sweep her off her feet, to romance her in the way her few female companions had been. She'd wanted it so very badly but could never admit it out loud. Never had she told anyone of her need to be female, of her desire to be someone's something. The pain of believing she'd never find that kind of love had torn her up inside. In truth that's why she forced herself into her work with such vigour. It wasn't that she didn't attract men, it was that none of them actually desired all of her. She was smart and she knew it. So did they. Sometimes she wondered if that was the problem, if the fact that she was so aware of her intelligence that no one could ever love her.

She had hazy memories of her parents and their love. Her father had been a resolute scientist, his attention only captured by his work. Unless her mother was in the room. Her mother was a powerful woman. She wasn't a scientist but she was fiercely intelligent in her own way. She was quick, full of humour, ready to burst forth at any moment. And she captured Gregory's attention without so much as a second thought. All she had to do was walk into the room and he was mesmerized.

That's what she wanted. Someone who would stare at her for all the right reasons.

And he did. He truly did. He loved all of her. From her fierce interest in science right through to those moments when she'd collapse into tears in his arms. He loved her.

But he didn't _love_ her.

He wanted her to be his. She was a perfect gem for him. Unique and untameable. Something most men admired from afar, shaking their heads at the few men brave enough to challenge the woman they affectionately referred to as "the shrew."

She knew they said it, she wasn't deaf. Their thinly veiled references to that damn play had made her even more determined at first. She'd walked past them, head held high as she tore past them. It had been weeks before the tears had started. Not that they had ever seen them.

But then John loved her and it didn't matter. She threw herself into his affections with a force that was exactly equivalent to the way she felt about him. She was his and that was all that mattered.

He was hers too but it was different. At first he'd objected to the phrase, claiming that neither of them belonged to anyone except themselves (he really was something of a progressive thinker) but one night, as they were sitting by the fire, he'd admitted that yes, he was in fact one of 'her boys.' She'd giggled and he'd nuzzled her cheek as he pulled her closer.

"But only on one condition. You have to be _my _girl."

And while she didn't like the idea of being called a girl, she'd nodded and then kissed him. The next night he'd proposed and mentally she'd upgraded him from 'her boy' to 'her soon-to-be husband.' Not that it had stopped her father from referring to him as one of the boys.

John was her boy but he was so much more too.


	3. James

**So, it's come to my attention that the Helen I'm presenting could come off as a bit.. ahem, loose? I don't see it that way (I mean, the woman is 161 years old) but I just wanted to let y'all know that that's not my intention.**

**This piece is something of a guilty pleasure for me because I have a thing about restrained English gentlemen and the loss of said restraint and the manner in which that is achieved... :P**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews! Keep 'em comin'!**

**Enjoy**

**xx**

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><p><strong><em>James:<em>**

James had revelled in the term, thinking it the most adorable thing he'd ever heard. He'd always been the good natured one, rarely raising his voice, always kind, always courteous. Even when they'd fought, he'd always been restrained. Some days, it drove Helen to the brink of insanity. Each time they fought (which was, in fact quite rare) she'd have to fight the urge to stride over and shake some sense in to him. Even John, the consummate gentleman fought with more passion than him. One day, she was so mad that she actually did shake him. The look of shock on his face was so comical, Helen had started to laugh at him.

She'd tried to step away from his as she doubled up with laughter but surprisingly enough, his hands hand clamped down on her arms, keeping her body just inches from his. That had sobered her up. She could see the anger glittering in his eyes and immediately rethought the intelligence of her previous action. She knew she should have insisted on her release her but she was mesmerized by the way his breathing had increased, his were lips pulled tight across his teeth and his hands were getting tighter and tighter around her arms.

Then, just as she opened her mouth, he had silenced her, leaning down to crush their lips together. She meant to protest, meant to squirm and move out of his embrace but her body didn't seem to want to listen to her head. Instead of a squeak of surprise, she was moaning into his lips. Instead of moving away, she leant into his chest and grabbed at his clothes, pulling him closer.

And while it had been a while since Helen was in this position, she couldn't remember kissing ever being this… this… this intense. All her nerve endings were on fire, her body aching for his touch. From that point, things had very quickly progressed and soon the aching was more than satisfied. Of course, he'd apologized profusely for his actions, promising that he'd never, ever force himself on her again.

It had taken her a good hour to convince him that there had been no forcing involved. That she was a very willing participant and hoped she could be again. He'd been taken back by her offer but, as she'd expected, he'd been more than willing to comply. Of course he'd been more gentle with her but after more than month of his gentle affections, Helen had made it her own personal mission to make him lose control again.

It took her another month to achieve this goal but boy was it worth the wait.

Then, of course, World War II had happened and their relationship slowly dropped away. The first few years were fine, intense and passionate but then, after seeing Druitt in Normandy, it all fell apart. Perhaps they were both feeling guilty. Perhaps they were too caught up in their work. Perhaps it just wasn't meant to be.

For a year or so it had been awkward but, in the way old friends do, they got past it, falling back into a comfortable companionship. Their combined pride had been an issue but, after a time, they could stand the pain no longer. It was as if one day, out of the blue, Helen arrived in his lab, friendly smile on her face and everything was fine.

It wasn't, but they were very good at playing pretend.


	4. Nikola

**Will is giving me a lot of trouble so I'm posting this in the hopes that someone can inspire me and make me not want to give up on this story... **

**Anyway, ignore my 'soul crushing depression' (couldn't resist just one little quote) :P Thank you to the two lovelies who have been reviewing, I hope y'all enjoy this one too...**

**xx**

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><p><em><strong>Nikola:<strong>_

Tesla, Nikola: Selfish. Arrogant. Pain in the ass. Ridiculously attired. Rude. Dangerous. Cheeky. Obnoxious. Bane of her existence. Insufferable. Brilliant. Messy. Insane. Electrifying. Immortal. Fastidious. Uncouth. Abrasive. Sly. Sneaky. Trying. Challenging. Unpredictable. Predictable. Immature. Quick witted. Idiotic. Single minded. Sometimes mortal. Shootable. Snarky. Smirking. Unclean. Stupid. Genius. Demanding. House elf. Inappropriate. Stubborn. Smelly. Intolerable. Unbearable. Agonizing. Antagonizing. Egotistical. Thieving. Magnetic. Problematic.

Vampire.

The worst thing was, he was most of those things even before the blood though it had taken them all some time to realise it. When they'd first met him, Nikola had been quite, reserved and, although he had a quick tongue when it came to their lecturers, none of them had quite guessed at the magnitude of his jibes. Though he'd never doubted any of their brilliance, he always had to one up them, always had to be bigger, better, brighter. Out wit, out work, out shine. Every. Single. Time.

He'd fought against the name her father had given him. He rebelled against the idea that she'd owned him. He was independent and proud of it. But once, just once, she'd caught him using the phrase. It wasn't something she'd meant to do, it just sort of happened. She'd been hanging around outside the lab, waiting for John to return. Nigel and Nikola had were working and she'd caught the tail end of their conversation.

"Aw, come on," Nigel had complained, "we need a better name than 'The Five'. Something more, action hero and less pretentious."

Nikola had snorted and she could tell he hadn't even looked up from his work.

"Well then, what do you suggest?" he'd drawled.

"Oh I dunno! Just something," Nigel had countered. For as brilliant as his scientific mind might be, he had a knack for playing the child.

"Well, we can hardly go around calling ourselves 'her boys'," Nikola had countered simply. "As accurate as it might be."

The words had shocked her to her core, making little shivers of delight run down her spine. There was no animosity in his tone, no anger or resentment, just simple acceptance of something he considered fact. So he didn't hate her. There had been times when Nikola had almost refused to work with her and some days, Helen would have sworn she could see something akin to fear in his eyes.

Of course, she knew he didn't really hate her but once or twice she'd caught him ogling her body in what was clearly scientific curiosity.

She'd never mentioned the conversation to any of them but the sly smile she wore around Nikola for the next few days had made them all uneasy.

Then there had been Rome.

Well, in truth everything had changed the moment they faked his death but it wasn't until Rome that she realised just how different things were.

For one, the Nikola she remembered would never have kissed her like that. Not that she objected to such kissing, in fact she'd rather enjoyed it. Well, she did in retrospect. At the time she'd been so bamboozled by his presence that she hadn't register much more than shock at finding her lips on his. She'd briefly considered leaving them there but then she remembered who she was kissing and that it was probably a very bad idea.

Nikola was almost a different man in Rome. He was everything he used to be and so much more. She often wondered if he'd taken his modernization too far. He'd been almost too brash, too selfish, too single minded. But, in essence that was Nikola. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting but plans for world domination, as 'Nikola' as the concept was, had come as a bit of a shock.

The protestations of love had sent her reeling too. They'd always had a bond, the two freaks amongst a group of freaks but their relationship had always been strange. Rife with a tension if took Helen the better part of a century to recognize.

And with that recognition, Helen knew he wasn't lying. Perhaps he hadn't always loved her but she was intelligent enough to realise that he'd felt something more than friendship.

Which, of course, made her feel guilty because she hadn't. Or didn't. Or something. After all these years it got a bit hard to tell. That and she spent so much time trying not to kill him or to make sure he didn't die that in the blink of an eye, she could want him in her bed and then want to put a bullet through his head.

Damn him. Snarky, smirking vampire that he was.

The only time she could ever be sure how she felt about him was in the few seconds between seeing him and comprehending exactly what shit storm he'd dragged her into this time. Those moments when their eyes locked and mutual relief flooded their bodies she could be certain that killing him would be a bad idea. Times like these she thought that maybe, just maybe, she loved him too.

Not that she'd ever tell him that.

Nikola was her reluctant boy but, somehow, he was the last one standing.

And maybe that did count for something.

Maybe.


	5. Henry

**Sorry for the wait, I spent ages trying not to drop a piano on Will in his chapter but, after much pain and suffering that does not result in the death of our favourite Huggybear, here is Henry :P**

**Thanks to everyone who's been reading, especially those who've been reviewing too :)**

**Enjoy**

**xx**

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><p><em><strong>Henry:<strong>_

He was a son to her. Someone who looked up to her, idolized her in a way only her daughter should but she couldn't deny him anything. Not that it upset her. In truth, she liked it. She'd always wanted to have a sibling for Ashley and the camaraderie between the two of them had warmed her heart. Then, as he'd grown, she'd been proud to be there for him, to see him become the warm, kind, intelligent man that he was today. Secretly, she liked to think she'd helped with that.

When they'd first met, he had been shy, stuttering over his words, afraid of his own shadow. Not that that had completely disappeared but with every passing day, Helen could see him growing into his skin, proving himself time and time again to be dependable, someone who was always there for her. She'd comforted him through losses, held him as he broke down and was there to see him build himself back up. The bond they shared was one of mutual trust and an understanding that stemmed from years of troubles. None of the others ever understood it but there was always an unspoken understanding. What had started off as one sided nurturing eventually became something more.

Once or twice he'd heard someone refer to one of the Five as 'her boy' but he'd never asked, instead smiling his secretive little smile, letting her pretend he hadn't heard it. Not that she was ashamed of any of her boys but the term in itself was something she wasn't always comfortable with. Then, one day, by a slip of the tongue that wasn't even a little bit of a slip, she'd commented offhandedly that 'her boys' weren't limited to the Five. She'd caught his eye briefly as he slipped from the room and he smiled brilliantly at her.

Funnily enough though, he was the only one she'd never considered to be a boy, despite his child-like glee at times.

He _had_ been a good boy but now he was a good man.

A man she was proud to think of as her own in some twisted, outdated way.


	6. Will

**Yes, this is the shortest yet but I was in a bad mood and I don't fancy Will at the best of times so be thankful he didn't end up smushed under a piano :P**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story as well as those who have been reading :) This is the first time I've written anything that's not Teslen-based so trying to be unbiased when it came to certain boys *ahem, yes, you know who* was a bit of a trick... Let me know if I've succeeded :)**

**The sequel to this "Her Girl" will be up in the next day or two so keep your eyes peeled kiddies!**

**Enjoy**

**xx**

Will was like all her other protégés, completely different to all the others who had come before him. That was the one thing they always had in common. Although Will was particularly different. He respected her, yes, but he also called her on bad choices. He wasn't afraid of the history she was able to wield over him. He treated has as both a mentor and a friend. While some days she couldn't stand his attitude, mostly she was glad for it. He was brave, willing to fight for her and against her, listening to her advice but willing to ignore it too.

He had saved her more times than she'd thought possible. He was strong and capable and she knew that, if the time came, he'd be a capable leader for the Sanctuary. With a few more years training, he might even be able to be head of the network.

Sometimes he pushed his luck, sticking his nose in places it had no business but he was young and he still had an enthusiasm that had been replaced in Helen but sheer determination to keep going. She couldn't hold it against him because she knew one day he'd get to the same point as her and she dreaded it. The longer he managed to be impetuous, the more time he spent prying, the more time he spent disagreeing with her, the better because the second that ended, he'd be just like her. He disagreed with her because he questioned all courses of action, weighing up the pros and cons before making a decision, something Helen had stopped doing decades ago. Now she automatically knew what to do, very rarely did she second guess herself. It was a confidence not bred of arrogance but of history, of experience that taught her to trust her first instincts. While it might save her some time, Will's slower, methodical approach almost always came up with results she never even considered.

And, on top of that, he was a friend. He was closer to her than any of the other protégés had been and she wasn't sure why but she was grateful that he was. He was her boy, strong and capable and not yet acting like her.

He wasn't her carbon copy yet and she was glad, for his sake.


End file.
